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Vile
Precious little mingle fling,
I’ll push two fingers through the ring
if that’ll make you love me more.
Your hatch is patched up by a sore.
Makes the mute and tone deaf sing for more.
Ring ding ding, curtains up,
Wake up.
Make-up.
MATE. SLUT.
Deflowered, underpowered, over-cowered,
faintly soured?
Need a shower??
I find my findings ever so found.
Cheeks blackened. Broken back-end.
Front’s a mess too. A total wreck and,
I meant to warn ya about the crack when
you went to town on that stacked crowd.
Heck, I’ll even lend you a chute to drain
your paranoid puke.
Nothing? Might’ve been a fluke.
It shows, cowards get carried by crows.
Best men avoid marriage by vows.
Last man stands proud before crowds.
Rest of it fits right in the…
Wow.
I just realised my loosely viced advice is
pragmatised by lies.
Infected by plural bi-erected, surprise-injected
futile cries.
Plenty wise would eventually realise the poor
perfected rise in ghillie-disguised demise
is deprived by merely in-justified linger-eyes.
So lonely.
So lonely am I.
Lonely as the word “I”.
That’s not a word.
One letter shy.
So “ay”,
would like to pretend
that all is fine.
Like to pretend things are different
for a while.
Less… Vile.
I’ll push two fingers through the ring
if that’ll make you love me more.
Your hatch is patched up by a sore.
Makes the mute and tone deaf sing for more.
Ring ding ding, curtains up,
Wake up.
Make-up.
MATE. SLUT.
Deflowered, underpowered, over-cowered,
faintly soured?
Need a shower??
I find my findings ever so found.
Cheeks blackened. Broken back-end.
Front’s a mess too. A total wreck and,
I meant to warn ya about the crack when
you went to town on that stacked crowd.
Heck, I’ll even lend you a chute to drain
your paranoid puke.
Nothing? Might’ve been a fluke.
It shows, cowards get carried by crows.
Best men avoid marriage by vows.
Last man stands proud before crowds.
Rest of it fits right in the…
Wow.
I just realised my loosely viced advice is
pragmatised by lies.
Infected by plural bi-erected, surprise-injected
futile cries.
Plenty wise would eventually realise the poor
perfected rise in ghillie-disguised demise
is deprived by merely in-justified linger-eyes.
So lonely.
So lonely am I.
Lonely as the word “I”.
That’s not a word.
One letter shy.
So “ay”,
would like to pretend
that all is fine.
Like to pretend things are different
for a while.
Less… Vile.
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